


The Lost Lamb

by amuk



Series: The Beaten Path [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, F/M, Gen, Identity Issues, Romance, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 05:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sakura’s the queen, the master of this domain, not him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Lamb

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Day 1 // “What are you so desperate for?”
> 
> Theme: Alternate Universe

“He has arrived, m’lady,” her right-hand whispers in her ear, voice low and rough from misuse. “They are sending him in.”

 

“Thank you, Tenten,” she murmurs back, waving a dismissal at the news. She had sensed him from the moment he stepped into her kingdom.

 

 Tenten’s dark brown bangs tickle her cheek as the guard pulls away, straightening to return her gaze at the door. She positions herself to the left of the throne, back proud and straight as she rests a hand on the hilt of her sword. The rest of the court, the queen’s handmaidens, all settle themselves similarly, in a clock-wise fashion.

 

Not that they are needed, but the gesture is well-intentioned and she is touched.

 

A soft clicking noise echoes through the room as the ornate doors at the other end of the room slowly swing open.  The metallic clacks of shoes are heard as an unseen body approaches the door, heels announcing his presence on the marble floors.

 

“Ahhh...” she hisses softly, too softly for anyone to hear. Her hands are burning again ( _fire, fire, burning bright_ ) and she glances down to watch as the myriad of swirls slowly glow. A rising phoenix, the crash of thunder, the flickering golden-orange hue of flames, the—

 

_“It hurts, not knowing what you think, not knowing how you feel.”_

 

—red eyes twirling out of existence. The tattoos warn her for a moment, that something is amiss, that he is here to retrieve something, before disappearing.

 

The footsteps stop and her youngest handmaiden announces his presence, her face matching the roots of her hair.

 

“Uchiha Sasuke, here to request assistance.”

 

Not assistance. She can tell by his stature, how he doesn’t bow or fall to his knees. His eyes are on hers, dark and purposeful, and there is an air of confidence in his movements. Too much confidence, considering that she is the one in power.

 

She almost wants to yell at her guards to take him away, this is her kingdom not his, but there is a whisper of memory (of linked fingers, of moonless nights and hidden alcoves, of—) and she is powerless in its wake.

 

(She is forgetting something)

 

Silence pervades the room and all that is left is the muted breathing as she observes him. He is handsome enough, hair and eyes reminding her of the midnight sky she has not seen in weeks. With his pale skin, he could be one of the charmed ones.

 

(or, and she knows if she were to pull down his collar, were to shift his hair, she would find black swirls eating him slowly. He is one of the cursed ones, then, and she doesn’t know why she knows this.

He is a stranger.)

 

“What do you want?” she finally asks.

 

“You know what.” His voice is curt and she holds down the urge to attack once more.

 

“No,” and this is not a complete lie, he shouldn’t be so familiar to her. “I do not.”

 

He frowns at those words, at the cold tone she uses. “You do.”  Before she can respond, he adds, “You are just running away.”

 

“...running away?” And now her blood is boiling, her shackles raised. The air around her is charged, the earth trembling, he has no right to speak to a queen like that, and he has no right to act differently, “who do you think you are, Sasuke-kun?”

 

And she stops.

 

Those were not her words. Those cannot be her words, she doesn’t know him. Doesn’t know the memories that are slowly flooding in.

 

There is a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he darts forward, faster than sight, and stands in front of her. Tenten moves forward, sword sliding soundlessly out of her sheath, only to pause as her queen holds out a hand.

 

“Who...what....” And she is no longer seeing him, instead a young teen, blood on his hands, dark stains running wildly up and down his skin as he grins wickedly. A wish, a twisted wish that he wanted granted, at the cost of— “What are you so desperate for?”

 

(And she feels the sun, printing stories in lines and shadows across her skin, hears ragged breathing and a solitary snort, tastes the dew of the early morning on the tip of the tongue)

 

“WHO ARE YOU?”

 

(WHO AM I? She wants to ask, needs to ask, because she shouldn’t know any of this)

 

There is something comforting when he rests a hand on her rest, pulling her up.

 

“Sakura,” (and oh, is that her name?) “you should know the answer to that.”

 

And she does.  


End file.
